


Don't Look Me In The Eye

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Artist!Ronan, Life Drawing, M/M, Uni AU, i have been to so many life drawing classes in my life so i am qualified to write this ok, meet cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: Ronan is a sullen art student who is maybe on the verge of failing out of university. His teacher doesn't want him to, suggests he takes up a new class. There's a ridiculously good looking person in this new class, and that irritates Ronan.sucboy on tumblr wanted a Pynch artist/lifemodel au!





	1. Chapter 1

When Ronan Niall Lynch had been born - his father liked to say - the Earth rolled and rumbled and split. That the skies opened and the birds sang. 

 

His mother was more of the opinion that when Ronan Niall Lynch was born the sun shone and the flowers bloomed, the birds spread their wings and flew. 

 

Despite the difference in stories, the both of them agreed that when he was born, they knew that he was special. That he was a creator, through and through. That his mind and his hands together would work miracles. That is what they liked to tell him. 

 

On the morning of his every birthday, they would regale him during breakfast with their memories of his birth, of how much they loved him, of how they knew he was going to go far, work miracles, be brilliant. 

 

His every birthday up until his seventeenth birthday, of course, seeing as his parents managed to die just a few months before it. His brothers didn't fill the role, seeing as they were still busy grieving, still busy putting their lives back together. Good thing too, because if anyone, especially his older brother, had tried to do anything so special and intimate and  _ kind _ he would probably have self combusted. Or set them on fire. 

 

Either way. 

 

It had been a long time since he had been reminded that he was apparently destined for great things. That he was something beautiful and creative. Two years of quiet on the affirmation front. 

This wasn't really anybody's fault but his, he was pretty sure. His friend Gansey, patient, patient, ridiculous Gansey, occasionally tried to remind him that he was a human and therefore loveable and worthy, but. 

 

It was difficult to hear these things. He knew Gansey loved him, fuck knows why, because Gansey stuck with him and stuck with him, and that's all he needed. 

 

So, he was maybe a little bit stricken when his painting teacher pulled him aside at the end of the class. 

 

“Ronan,” she said, “I'm sure you're well aware of this, but your art is amazing. It's gorgeous. It's like you're a fresh well of ideas and beauty.” 

She paused here to give Ronan a moment to adjust to what he was hearing. He was going to need more than a moment. He knew he was good at what he did. That was why he was here at art school. That and the fact that Declan had threatened to withhold his inheritance if he didn’t go to university and art was the only thing he ever felt like doing. She continued. 

 

“I can see you doing great stuff with your art,” she said, “I can see you being the next big thing.” 

 

He'd had enough time to adjust now. 

 

“But-?” He prompted, as dryly as he could manage while his emotions reminded him he was far too susceptible to kind words. 

 

His teacher nodded her head in acknowledgement that this was indeed a 'but’ situation. 

 

“But,” she said, “I'm worried about your motivation. Or lack thereof. You get good grades -, great grades - in the classes you go to. It's just that you don't go to all of them. I'm afraid that if you keep this up, you won't pass this semester, and then I'm afraid you'd let that keep you down.”

 

Ronan snorted. Partially because he was trying to cover up the truth of it. 

 

“You think,” he said, “that if I fail this semester, I'll drop out of uni and then never even draw again?” 

 

“Yes,” she said, all too simply, “I do.” 

 

“Rude,” he muttered, folded his arms tight across his chest. He could just leave. He could turn around and go. He wasn’t going to drop out. Declan would give him hell for it. Gansey would sulk about it for months. That was the the better incentive not to.

 

“Which is why,” his teacher said now, “I was hoping to persuade you, not to go to these classes you so obviously hate, but to drop them and sign up for something you'd go to.” 

 

Too much work. 

 

“I know we're already halfway through,” she said, not perturbed at all by his lack of response. “So you'd need to enroll to a class that runs double speed.” 

 

“Like what?” He grunted. 

 

“Like how some of the summer courses run, the courses squished into half their normal length, but with full credit.” 

 

“No,” he sighed. He could leave. “Like, what class is going to meet both that specific need, and also keep my attention? I picked the classes I picked because they seemed the least boring.” 

 

She shrugged, though she seemed to already have an answer under her tongue. “well. It just so happens that I'm going to be running a half term course. It starts next week.” 

 

He stared at her. 

 

“Life drawing,” she said, “I know portraiture isn't your forte, but I think it'd provide a challenge for you. Maybe the challenge will keep you?” 

 

“I'll think about it,” he said. 

 

“Think quickly,” she advised, “you have a week.” 

 

-

 

Perhaps it was because she had been so kind, perhaps it was because she hadn't been put off by his silences and sullenness, maybe it was because he did want a challenge. He signed up to the class. And then regretted it. 

 

-

 

“Ronan,” Gansey sighed, “it's not like you're… shy of nudity. You barely put pants on around the flat.” 

 

“Because it's just you, me, and Noah!” Ronan hissed back from under his blankets, “I don't give a fuck about you seeing my cock, or me seeing your cock, I've known you for too long to give a shit. I don't wanna stare at some random person’s… bits!” 

 

“So don't stare!” Gansey suggested, frustrated. He clattered something loudly. 

 

“I have to!” Ronan said, “it's a life drawing class! I have to draw the bits. I have to look at them to draw them.” 

 

“Poor baby,” Noah cooed. He'd been on the bathroom door the majority of the conversation, but he'd obviously been listening in. Now, he draped himself over Ronan on the couch. “Are you worried they'll all be bigger than you?” 

 

“Piss off,” Ronan grunted, though he didn't move to push Noah off of him. “I just don't want to… to be rude.” 

 

“That doesn't seem to stop you with anything else on your life,” Gansey pointed out dryly, “anyway, the model knows you're going to look. Everyone is going to look. You're fine.” 

 

“Oh right,” Ronan sneered, popped his head out from under the blankets. “So, you'd be fine with coming then? Sitting through a two hour session of staring at a nude stranger sitting about two metres away?” 

 

Gansey blanched. “I'm not an artist,” he protested. 

 

-

 

His first life drawing class was on a Monday evening. It was a brutal schedule, to fit a whole course in. He had class on Mondays and Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Plus it was apparently advised to go to an out of uni life drawing class at least once during the course. 

 

“Oh good,” his teacher said when he arrived, a little late, “I was worried you wouldn’t join us today after all.” 

 

“Got held up,” he grunted. He had, in fact, been playing Need for Speed with Noah at his flat. 

 

“Nevermind,” she said, “there’s an easel for you at the front there.” She turned her attention to the rest of the class to speak now. “Everyone got the memo? Just graphites today?” 

 

The class chorused an assent while Ronan shuffled himself over to the easel and dropped his bag heavily onto the ground. Something in it cracked ominously. He had been hoping to sit in the very back, but he supposed if he wanted to actually choose his seating he ought to have arrived at least vaguely on time. A quick glance around the room showed that everyone else had already taped up some paper onto their easel boards, so he did so as well, then picked through the mess of his bag to find his graphite pencils - three of them, black, white, brown - and put them on the easel too. His fingers were already dirty. 

 

If he had arrived five minutes ago, or maybe less, he would have already been introduced to their model for the day. Would have known that he had stepped behind the slatted screen in the corner of the room to get undressed. Would not have looked up from his paper and dirty hands to see someone seemingly made entirely of muscle and bone stepping up onto the raised platform in the middle of the room. He dropped the graphite still in his hand - the black one - and it broke in half on the concrete floor with a quiet ‘tink’ noise. 

 

“Ronan,” his teacher said, “you weren’t here when we introduced Adam earlier. He’s going to be our model for this course.” 

 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to greet Adam here, or if he was supposed to say anything in particular, so he just grunted. The teacher spoke to the class again. 

 

“Ok,” she said, “thank you Adam. Alright, we’re going to start with a series of fifteen seconds to warm up, and then move straight on to ten minute poses. For most classes you’ll get to request positions from Adam, but for today we’re just going to stick to some simple ones that Adam will choose himself so you can all focus on getting into the groove of it all!” 

 

There were a few murmurs from the class, a request for music, a question on how many fifteen second poses, and then  _ Adam _ stretched his back sharply, looked at the teacher, and the teacher held up a timer and set it. 

 

“Remember,” she said, speaking loudly over the sudden flurry of graphite scratching paper, “this is just a warm up. Don’t be precious. Focus on getting lines out, on getting mass in. Draw over your other drawings, make a mess. Get loose. Time! Thank you Adam. Ok, ready - go.” 

 

He hadn’t gotten a single line down on his paper during that first fifteen seconds. Too busy staring first at the teacher, and then at Adam as he curled in on himself in his first pose. Now he was standing with his arms stretched to the ceiling. 

 

He grabbed his brown pencil and squinted at Adam. Managed to scuff in half an arm before Adam was moving again, bending down into an almost squat. He drew in Adam’s shoulders - wide but skinny, covered in freckles. He got in the jut of Adam’s knee. Adam changed position again. This time he drew one outstretched hand - the fingers all knuckle and dry skin and more freckles still. He moved again. And again. And again. Over and over Ronan got barely anything more than a few lines in, a mere suggestion of Adam. It was good, because it meant he wasn’t really looking at Adam. Just looking at pieces of Adam. Just looking in a rush because he was drawing the line of light on his calf. He was still pleased when it was over. 

 

A little less pleased it was over when Adam settled down in his next position - a ten minute pose - knees up, arms on his knees, face towards Ronan. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

 

He was pretty sure Adam wasn’t really  _ looking _ at him, just looking in his direction, because his light eyes seemed pretty blank, but still. Everytime he looked up, his eyes caught on Adam’s face looking at him. He wished he would close his eyes. 

 

Just because he didn’t focus much on portraiture - choosing forestscapes and surreal plant still lives over people - didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. He’d drawn portraits for his family all his childhood, he had drawn Gansey a million times. He could probably draw Gansey with his eyes closed. He drew Gansey partially because it was fun, partially to appeal to Gansey’s never ending curiousity as to how others saw him, and partially because it was comforting drawing the features of a friends. Also because he could draw Gansey dumb looking if Gansey was being annoying and it always pissed him off. 

 

So. He was ok at drawing people. Good at it even. He hadn’t expected it to be so hard to draw people naked. Really, it ought to have been easier. It wasn’t like he drew tree trunks with clothes on. These lines should feel more natural. But. He kept getting caught on things. The angle on arm he couldn’t hide in a shirt. The turn of the ankle. The scar stretching from the inside of Adam’s thigh almost down to his ankle. He wanted to know why it was there. 

 

-

 

  
“How was it?” Gansey asked when he got home later that evening. He and Noah were stretched out on the couch together when Ronan came in, and Noah had held up a sloppy peace sign in greeting. Or possibly just flipped him off. 

 

“Gonna have to be more specific,” Ronan grunted, heading past the couch to get to the fridge where he hoped was still some left over pasta. “How was what? Life? Bad. The walk? Chilly. Lunch? Great.” 

 

“The class,” Gansey groaned. 

 

“I hate it,” Ronan said, there was still pasta, he cheered victoriously, yanked it out, and began eating it straight from the tupperware with his fingers. 

 

“Close the door at least,” Gansey commented. 

 

“Why did you hate it?” Noah asked. 

 

“Because,” Ronan said, shutting the fridge door with his foot and a thud, and then crossed back over to the couch where he settled on its arm. “It’s a complete stranger. I know nothing about him, except now I know what his dick looks like. I don’t like drawing people I don’t know. Feels like cheating.” 

 

“What did his dick look like?” Noah asked. 

 

Ronan declined to answer. 

 

“So,” Gansey said, “make friends with him.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groaned through his pasta mouthful. “Do you know nothing? You don’t make friends with your life drawing model! That’d be like making friends with your doctor. A little weird and inappropriate.” 

 

“I’m sure he’s friends with other people in the class, or at least, other people he models for,” Gansey said. 

 

“That’s different,” Ronan replied archly, “you can  _ be _ friends with him, you just can’t make friends with him while he’s the model. It’d come off as creepy. Or like I was after him for like… other things.” 

 

“Like his dick,” Noah chipped in helpfully. 

 

“Shut up, Noah,” Ronan said. 

 

-

 

Tuesday’s class was a morning class, which Ronan didn’t really appreciate. Until this class, his earliest class wasn’t until noon (if you didn’t count the classes he didn’t go to. If you did, his earliest class started at ten.), but this class started at eight. Not great. Maybe he could still get full credits if he just skipped Tuesdays. 

 

“You can’t just skip Tuesdays,” Gansey told him loudly through his bedroom door, “I’ve got class too. We can go to uni together. Stop whining. Get up!” 

 

“Guys!” Noah moaned from the room over, “I’m asleep still!” 

 

He went to class. 

 

He managed to get to class before Adam disappeared behind the screen this time, which was good because it meant that it was less of a shock when he reappeared again completely naked. 

 

He was pretty sure it was just a coincidence - it had to be, because today some of his classmates were asking for particular poses and angles - but Adam seemed to sit, more often than not, facing Ronan. Perhaps he was like a dog, could smell the fear on him. Perhaps it was coincidence. Perhaps he’d seen Ronan’s drawings from last week somehow and noticed that Ronan had in fact actually neglected to draw any… bits and was trying to force his hand with his spread legs. Thankfully, the last pose of the two hour session was a half hour reclining position, Adam’s face away from Ronan due to the request of a girl across the room. Better. He could draw asses just fine. 

 

-

 

He managed to hold out until Friday, and then he cracked. 

 

“He’s ridiculously beautiful,” he admitted in a low, pained whisper. He was maybe speaking a little too quietly for the raucous background noise of the bar they were in, but the gleeful look on his bartender’s face proved he had heard perfectly well. 

 

“Who?” Henry asked, leaning in close across the counter under the guise of filling Ronan’s glass, “you don’t come here to tell  _ me _ secrets unless you don’t want Gansey boy knowing. Who’s got you by the balls?” 

 

“That’s disgusting,” Ronan pointed out, took a swig from his glass and pulled a face. “You’re disgusting. No one has me by my balls. Shit head. And it’s not a secret.” 

 

“It’s not a secret,” Henry said, “but you haven’t told our favourite all American boy, have you?” 

 

“It’s the model in my life drawing class,” Ronan hissed, pissed that he had been driven to Henry’s bar to confess this stupid little thing that had been bugging him all week. “So no. I haven’t told him because a. He would never let me hear the end of it, and, b. It’s creepy as fuck!” 

 

“So you’re telling me because -?” 

 

“Because I don’t live with you and can get away from your judgy face easy peasy, plus, you’re not judging right now. Are you?” 

 

“I’m not,” Henry admitted easily, then leered, “but, like, life drawing model? Those are the completely naked ones, right? You are kinda creepy.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groaned, tipped forwards to rest his forehead on the bar, then lifted his head up immediately because it was kind of sticky. “I don’t think he’s like. Sexy. I mean. God. I do. But it’s not because he’s  _ naked _ . I think if I’d seen him walk past in like… in like a hazmat suit I’d still think he was way too pretty to be allowed.” 

 

“Holy shit,” Henry breathed, “pretty? God, Lynch, you’re gone. You don’t get this country unless it’s about calves.” 

 

“It’s not my fault he’s pretty!” Ronan growled. 

 

“Sure,” Henry snorted, “so. Tell me what makes him so attractive then? If it isn’t his dick.” 

 

“Shit head,” Ronan grumbled. “It’s his - his skin. It’s nice. Like. He’s covered in freckles and like, scars it’s interesting. Plus his face is all - is all angles and lines that shouldn’t make sense but fucking do. And he’s like… lithe -” 

 

“Lithe!” Henry interrupted, gleeful again. 

 

“Cheng!” Henry’s boss yelled from across the bar, “Not paying you for gossip!” 

 

“Next time, my man,” Henry grinned, “I wanna hear about his abs, next.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

If his teacher, or Gansey, or Noah, or even Ronan himself, had expected him to give up going, they were pleasantly (or unpleasantly) surprised. He found himself at every class, even if sometimes he was only just arriving in time-ish. The teacher had been right that it was a challenge. Not the practical side of it - the drawing a body part. Sure, he had had to focus harder, look more carefully at curves and angles and proportions, but he could do that just fine. It was the task of getting to know the body in front of him that was challenging. He couldn’t draw it from memory. It was too odd, too detailed. Every class he found a new scar, freckle, indent, mark. The challenge was in letting himself look, drawing with connection, teaching him to be able to feel connected to someone who he only knew through skin and graphite. 

 

Of course, this biggest challenge was the fact that he was ridiculously, stupidly, annoyingly, disgustingly attracted to Adam. It had been fine the first few days, because that had been a very vague aesthetic attraction. It still was mostly aesthetic, seeing as he barely talked in class, and certainly not to Adam. But. It wasn’t just because he was so beautiful in shape, it was his voice - low and accented and sure of himself as he spoke to the teacher or to the person requesting a pose. It was the way his nose crinkled when he yawned. It was the clothes he arrived to class in - plain torn jeans, t-shirts, comfy looking jumpers. It was the fact that he kept sitting facing Ronan, and if Ronan was stupid enough to make eye contact, it was the half smile that Adam would crook onto his face for just a moment in acknowledgement. It was beyond frustrating. 

 

He had had stupid crushes before. Stupid crushes because people matched the ideal in his brain, or because they were kind to him, or because they touched him, or because he needed something or someone and they offered him a version of it. Usually, it was easy. Either he would act on the crush and ask the person out, or he would tell himself no, and forget it. 

 

He’d told himself no every single fucking morning and he was still feeling his heart stutter and jump everytime Adam walked into the room. Stupid. But. He could handle it. He wasn’t going to do anything about it, because he wasn’t going to be  _ that guy _ who awkwardly hits on the life model because he can’t read social cues and he’s gross and a million other not great things. Which meant that he was going to ignore how much he wanted to know why Adam had so many scars, and where he got the one on his left pinky, and did he know it made his hands look like… 300% more attractive than hands should look, and did he work with cars because sometimes when he came in the whole room would start to smell like car oil and sometimes he’d be changing out of overalls and sometimes his 300% more attractive hands would have oil or ink stains on them and that made them an overwhelming 500% more attractive and… 

 

He was just going to ignore all of this. 

 

-

 

“Ronan,” Noah said on the Saturday of the second week of Ronan’s personal hell. “Henry told me you were like, balls deep in a crush on your life model.” 

 

Ronan dropped the tray of ice cubes he was holding. Ice cubes skittered crazily around on the kitchen floor, a good handful disappearing happily under the fridge. 

 

“Shit, Czerny,” Ronan snapped, “don’t fucking sneak up on me! And what the fuck? Tell Henry to wash his mouth out and then glue it shut.” 

 

“Is it true, though?” Noah asked cheerily, sidestepping the ice so his socked feet wouldn’t get wet, and hopping up onto the counter next to Ronan. “You’re having some mushy feelings towards people that aren’t me or Gansey?” 

 

“I don’t have mushy feelings towards you two,” Ronan grunted, kicking the rest of the cubes under the fridge and stooping to pick up the tray. It was cracked. 

 

“Yeah you do,” Noah grinned, nudged him in the ass with his foot, “I saw you crying when Gansey gave you that photo album for your birthday. You’re an excellent sop and it doesn’t behoove you to hide it.” 

 

“You just made up that word,” Ronan said, dumped the tray in the sink. 

 

Noah ignored this as well. “So. Tell me about this model.” 

 

“He’s none of my business,” Ronan grunted, “and definitely none of yours.’ 

 

“Rude,” Noah pouted, reached with his foot and a loud grunt to nudge Ronan again. “You’re no fun.” 

 

“I’m heaps of fucking fun,” Ronan said. 

 

“Prove it.” 

 

“I’ll chuck you out the window.” 

 

“That’s not fucking fun!” 

 

“Is for me.” 

 

-

 

He made a mistake on Tuesday. He blamed the early hour, or, he blamed the walk to uni with Gansey. Gansey had been in a very cheerful mood, intermittently linking arms with Ronan and attempting to make him skip. 

 

“Dick,” Ronan growled after the seventh failed attempt. “Please. Stop embarrassing yourself.” 

 

“I’m just feeling joyous,” Gansey said, unlinked his arm from Ronan’s and instead crossed them over his chest. “It wouldn’t kill you to join in for once.” 

 

“It might,” Ronan said darkly. 

 

“It wouldn’t,” Gansey countered sharply. He didn’t sound very joyous anymore. “You know what your problem is, Lynch?” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan drawled, stomach crawling, “please tell me what my fucking problem is, Richard.” 

 

Gansey scowled. “You,” he said, “are so intent on being alone. Alone and brooding. Like some black and white film.” 

 

Ronan scoffed. “So my problem is I’m the hero of my own story?” 

 

“No,” Gansey snapped, “your problem is you forget to care about anyone else when you’re so focused on being alone. You can’t be a hero in any story if there aren’t any other characters.” 

 

Ronan crossed his arms as well. They had come to a stop at a red light, and Gansey was jabbing constantly at the walk button. 

 

“We’re best friends,” Gansey continued, still stabbing the button, “but sometimes I feel like you’re my best friend yet you don’t consider anyone  _ your  _ friend.” 

 

“Gansey,” Ronan said, because he was a fool enough to continue to scowl at everything else Gansey had said, even as it dug guilty little holes in his stomach, but this was something too much. “Gansey, no.” 

 

The walk light flashed green, and Gansey strode out onto the road. Ronan hurried after. 

 

“Gans,” he said, “fuck, man. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother.” 

 

“That doesn’t mean much,” Gansey mumbled to his feet, “you don’t even like your brothers half the time.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groaned. “I love the fuck out of Matthew. And somewhere, deep down, I’m sure I love Declan. I fucking love you too, ok? Ok, Dick? You’re my best friend. I’m sorry I was shitty. I don’t wanna be a black and white lonely protagonist, ok?” 

 

Gansey stopped mid stride to turn and grin at Ronan, as pleased as he had been upset moments before. “Ok,” he said simply.

 

Ronan groaned, linked his arm back with Gansey. “I’m not gonna skip,” he said, “but, go on. Tell me what’s got you skipping. I wanna know. Honestly.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey said brightly, “you know how I’ve been seeing this amazing girl I met at the uni quiz night who aced the endangered creatures section?” 

 

“Mhm,” Ronan said. “The fun one. The short one.” 

 

“Yeah,” Gansey said, “well. She’s agreed to be my  _ girlfriend _ .” 

 

“Huh,” Ronan said, “congrats man.” 

 

“You mean it?” 

 

“Duh,” Ronan said, elbowed Gansey in the ribs. “When is she coming ‘round, then?” 

 

-

 

Anyway. The mistake he made. Because it was an early class. Because Gansey had made him feel guilty about being withdrawn. About not joining in. About being an army of one. 

 

Adam had bent over to stretch out a muscle in between poses, and when he had, the lines of his ribs and his legs looked so very much like they ought to be drawn, and he was an artist, Goddamnit, he couldn’t just let that go to waste. So he’d spoken up very quickly, before anyone else could, before Adam could settle into another random pose, and requested the stretched pose. 

 

“For how long?” Adam asked.

 

He hadn’t thought that far. “Uh,” he said, “as long as you can hold it comfortably?” 

 

Adam blinked at him slowly, as if considering, then said, “I could hold it comfortably for five. I could hold it without pain for ten?” 

 

“How about we go for seven, then?” 

 

“Seven it is,” Adam had grinned, then, folded himself back into position, raised his eyebrows at Ronan to check it was the right position, and drawing began again. 

 

So. There you go, Gansey. He had un-aloned himself. Spoken to the model. Shown that he wasn’t just a one man show. 

 

The problem was that apparently now that he’d talked to Adam, Adam felt fine about coming over to Ronan’s easel during the fifteen minute break in the middle of class, dressed only in a robe, and asking to see his drawings for the day. 

 

The problem with that was that Ronan was not prepared to talk any more than he already had, and had therefore only grunted a yes and waved a hand at the papers at his feet. The problem with all of this was that Adam - with his gorgeous fucking hands and stupidly large knuckles, and freckles every-fucking-where - was thumbing through the pages of his stupid art. 

 

Ronan didn’t say anything. Adam didn’t say anything. They just both stood there, Adam looking intently, Ronan trying not to watch. He wondered how awkward this was for Adam, again, only in a small robe, standing next to a stranger and looking at these incredibly intimate drawings said stranger had drawn of him. Maybe he had paid too much attention to Adam’s hands. Maybe he looked like a creep. Maybe - 

 

“So,” Adam said, voice low and amused, “is the whole… not drawing my dick thing a no-homo kind of thing, or…?” 

 

This was the problem. Fucking shit. 

 

“What,” Ronan sputtered. “No. God. No. I  _ am  _ homo - it isn’t -” he shook his head, horrified with the incoherence coming out of him. “It felt rude.” He settled on. “Staring. Because of the homo. I didn’t want. Y’know.” Still incoherent. Horrifying. 

 

“Ah,” Adam said. He still sounded amused. Also horrifying. “Ok. Um. Well, I’m fine with you looking? That’s what I’m here for. You have my explicit permission to look at my dick. And if it helps? I’m bi, so, I’ve had plenty of gay guys look at it.” 

 

This was, if anything, worse. Maybe? 

 

“Right.” Ronan grunted. 

 

“I mean,” Adam said, flicked a couple of pages over, “these are beautiful. Probably a little too beautiful, you’re definitely over exaggerating my good features, which is nice of you. So. If it makes you uncomfortable, it’s not like you have to draw it.”  

 

“I’m not,” Ronan contradicts, possibly a little too fiercely. He shook his head. Didn’t want to expand on that more. “I’ll fucking draw your dick, if it means that much to you man.” 

 

Adam gave him a long hard look, and then shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t mean shit to me,” he said. “Do what you want.” 

 

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” Ronan said, which was probably not a thing he should have said. 

 

“Right back at you,” Adam said, “if you do draw my dick, show me. Unless you make it too small. Then I don’t wanna see.” 

 

-

 

He drew all of Adam during the next pose. It was stupid. It wasn’t like he was afraid of dicks, or of drawing dicks, it wasn’t even like he hadn’t drawn dicks before it was just. Well. He’d said it to Adam. It felt rude. He was overly aware that probably? If the model hadn’t been Adam, hadn’t been so stupidly Ronan’s type, he would have been drawing dick since day 1. It just felt  _ creepy _ . Like he was lying about why he was here, like he was betraying Adam’s trust, or the trust of the class. If you went to life drawing classes you were agreeing not to sexualise the model. He was definitely sexualising the model. Drawing the dick felt too much like he was thinking about the dick doing things other than just resting against Adam’s thigh while he sprawled out on the platform like a cat in the sun. 

 

He did not show the picture to Adam. He did not draw any more dick. He focused on details instead - so his lack of dick would at least be less noticeable. He drew the patch of Adam’s back that was a galaxy of freckles and scars. He drew the way Adam’s hair fell over his eyes while he was bent over. He drew the muscles in his back, in his calves. He drew his hands wrapped around his ankles. He drew his face over and over and over because Adam kept sitting facing him and honestly? Rude as all shit. He had a whole page of just Adam’s lips. 

 

-

 

“You are such a selfish ass,” Ronan said in greeting to Henry when Henry sidled along the bar to say hello. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” 

 

“You’re gonna have to expand on that, sweet pea,” Henry said, flicked at Ronan with the tea towel in his hand, “and also apologise for being mean, else I’ll call security.” 

 

“Security is at lunch,” Ronan grunted, pointed at the rum behind Henry. “Why did you tell Noah about my… what I told you?” 

 

“About your crush?” Henry asked brightly, turning to grab the rum bottle and pouring out a quick shot for Ronan. “Well. I thought it was just a secret from Gansey man.” 

 

“It was a secret from everyone!” Ronan growled, took the shot and downed it, “That’s why I told you!” 

 

“It’s a myth that bartenders are for keeping secrets,” Henry said calmly, “that’s bees. Bartenders are for spilling out your every secret to so we can go tell all our friends.” 

 

“Pisshead,” Ronan said. 

 

“So,” Henry continued, pouring himself a shot, “how is you crush going?” 

 

Ronan considered refusing to talk about any of this. He considered ordering another shot and then leaving. He considered talking about this with Gansey who would be so pleased and over the top and wouldn’t be happy about Ronan’s grouchy attitude about it all. 

 

“I don’t draw his dick,” he grunted. Waved at the bottle. Henry poured him another shot. 

 

“Uh,” he said, “ok, Lynch? Like. Are you telling me this so I don’t think you’re so creepy?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snapped, “I’m telling you this because it’s… fucking annoying. And he’s noticed.” 

 

Henry squinted at him. “Ok. Tell me why you don’t draw his dick.” 

 

“Because! Because I think he’s hot!”

 

“Ah,” Henry said, “so, what you’re telling me, is that when you look at that dick too long, your brain starts playing some nice videos of what you could be doing with it?” 

 

He hated Henry and his accuracy sometimes. “No.” 

 

“Ok,” Henry said, not put off, “listen up, you poor sad sack of gay emotions. If you’re not popping a boner during class, stalking this model dude, or jerking off to your drawings? You’re fine. Draw his dick. Don’t look like that one weird guy in class who just can’t.” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

“You can say thank you for the advice, y’know,” Henry pointed out, “it’s good advice. Not everyone gets it for free.” 

 

-

 

Maybe Henry’s advice had been good. It probably was. But. He had decided on a new solution to his problem. All he had to do was request poses that faced away from him. Easy. Apart from the having to request them. He could say he wanted to work on back muscles. Something like that. 

 

It worked - kind of - for a week. 

 

Friday, again during the fifteen minute break, Adam came back over to him in his too small robe. 

 

“Hey,” he said. 

 

Ronan was sitting cross legged at the foot of his easel sorting through drawings. He had to decide which ones he wanted in the first half of the portfolio for the course. It was difficult, because he didn’t want too many of the ones in which it was obvious he had just avoided drawing dick. He grunted in reply to Adam. Adam, horrifyingly, crouched down next to him. 

 

“I know you’ve been requesting the back poses so you don’t have to draw my dick,” Adam said. 

 

Ronan grunted again. 

 

“And I wanted to say sorry,” Adam continued, “I, uh, I talked to my friend about what I’d said. She agrees with me that I was rude to you, and out of line. So. I’m sorry.” 

 

Ronan gaped down at the papers, then lifted his head to lift his eyebrows at Adam. “What?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Adam repeated, looking somewhat frustrated, “it’s none of my business how you want to draw, and it was… gross of me to push the dick thing.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan said slowly, then shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said, “I mean. Yeah. I’m not drawing it, but. I didn’t mind you saying that.” 

 

“I think you’re lying,” Adam said. 

 

“Ok,” Ronan snorted, dropped his papers. “Whatever. I wanted to set fire to this entire planet when you pointed out all the dickless drawings. But, seriously. If this is an apology, you’re ruining it by pointing out my lie.” 

 

Adam shrugged, then snorted self deprecatingly, “Yeah,” he said, “I’ve been told I do that.” 

 

“It’s whatever,” Ronan said. “Was that all you wanted?” 

 

“I mean,” Adam shrugged again. “Yeah?” 

 

“Ok.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“These are really nice,” Gansey said, late Sunday night, quite tipsy on white wine and not enough food. “Look at his back muscles.” 

 

“Obviously I did,” Ronan slurred, shuffling the pieces back into his folder, “for hours. That’s all I did.” 

 

“Oh right,” Gansey snorted, dropped himself back against Ronan’s pillows and threw his hands up above his head to bang haphazardly at the headboard. “So. You still can’t draw his… uh… penis?” 

 

“I can,” Ronan said, maybe a little mulish. He had dropped the folder over the side of the bed, but now he reached back down to grab it again and dig through the pages to pull out the one drawing that included Adam’s dick. “See?” 

 

“Huh,” Gansey said, squinting at the dick, “y’know,” he said, “he looks a bit familiar?” 

 

“What?” Ronan snorted, “His dick does? When was the last time you sucked a guy’s dick?” 

 

Gansey scowled at him, hit the headboard a little more ferociously. “I meant his face, obviously.” 

 

“You weren’t looking at his face,” Ronan pointed out, “I was watching your eyes.” 

 

“Whatever,” Gansey said, “it’s a nice one.” 

 

-

  
  


“Lynch,” his teacher called, flinchingly familiar to the last time she’d called him to stay after class. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” 

 

“I’m coming to class tonight,” Ronan mumbled, shoving his shit back into his bag. 

 

“I wasn’t worried you weren’t,” she said, and he sighed and came to a halt beside her. “Thanks.” 

 

“What’s up?”

 

“I’ve been going through your half portfolio so far, as you know -” 

 

“If I’m failing, just say it,” Ronan said, yanked at his bag strap roughly. 

 

“You’re not,” she said, eyebrows raised, “It’s definitely in A territory.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“It’s nothing dire,” she continued, “I’m just curious.” 

 

“About Adam’s dick,” Ronan said. 

 

“Uh,” she said, “well yes. Or rather, about the noticeable absence of it.” 

 

“Is it required for the class?” 

 

“No,” she snorted a little, “it isn’t. I was just wondering if you were… uncomfortable. Or, if this was something you wanted to talk about? I have been noticing you’ve been requesting poses that are a little more ... hidden.” 

 

If he were the blushing type he would probably be blushing right now. If he wasn’t alright with  _ drawing _ dicks than why would be be alright with talking about them in public with someone he doesn’t know very well? He scowled. 

 

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, which wasn’t a complete lie, “and it isn’t something I want to talk about. I’m just not focusing on it, I’m doing back muscles studies. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

 

“Alright,” she said, “it isn’t.” 

 

-

 

The thing was. Because everyone was noticing the absense of the dick, it was a big deal. It was bad enough that Adam had commented, but now his teacher as well? Horrifying. It was a big deal now and he didn’t like it. Worse still, Adam coming over during the half time break to talk to him was a thing now. 

 

On Monday he had come over to Ronan’s easel because he had apparently been interested to see how his spine looked in the position it had been coiled in for the last half hour. He had looked at the still drying paint and complimented the shading and laughed at the blue paint on Ronan’s nose. 

 

On Tuesday he came over - still tying his robe around his waist - to say that he had  _ noticed Ronan was actually drawing the tree outside the window, was he really that boring today?  _ Ronan had replied with the suggestion that maybe Adam should do something more interesting, like the splits. Adam did the splits. Ronan did not really appreciate this. 

 

On Thursday he asked if Ronan had managed to  get the ink he’d spilled when Adam had dropped down into the splits on the platform out of his t-shirt. Ronan had not. Adam seemed to find this amusing. 

 

On Friday Ronan was crossing the room already because he had a request. 

 

“A request?” Adam replied, eyebrows raised to ridiculous heights under his curls, “Haven’t you made enough requests today already?” 

 

Possibly Ronan had spent the last two hours asking for poses, but. 

 

“You’re getting paid for it,” Ronan said, “and I’m being graded for participation, so.” 

 

“Fair,” Adam shrugged a shoulder. It was a stupidly good looking move on him. Ronan hated that he thought this. “So?” 

 

“I have another project due next week,” Ronan mumbled, “I thought I was done. Turns out I missed the whole portraiture section.” 

 

“Ask a mate?” Adam suggested, which was a blow to the rest of Ronan’s vaguely carefully thought out question. 

 

“Not allowed,” Ronan grunted, “paper specifies it has to be someone who I am not ‘well acquainted’ with. Something about a different type of trust.” 

 

“Right,” Adam said slowly, “I dunno if I ought to be hurt that you don’t feel like you’re well acquainted with me yet, or if I ought to point out that you’ve been drawing me for a few weeks so it’s not exactly going to be a fresh look or anything.” 

 

“I mean,” he said, “you did just say both those things. But look. I’ll pay you.”

 

Adam’s face shifted from mild amusement to suddenly stony. 

 

“Fine,” he said, in a way that very much sounded like it was not fine. “My rate is $50 for the first hour and an additional $20 for every following hour. I’m not free during the weekend.” 

 

“Oh-kayy,” Ronan said, working hard not to show how taken aback he was with Adam’s sudden turnaround in tone, “that’s fine. How does Monday work for you, then? In the evening?” 

 

“After five,” Adam said, flat, “until nine at the latest.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan frowned. “I’ll book a studio and let you know on Monday morning?” 

 

“Sure,” Adam said. 

 

-

 

He was pretty sure none of what he had said ought to really have pissed Adam off so much, but apparently it really had because not only had Adam turned to stone, he hadn’t kept talking to Ronan after that, had instead gone to look at some of the art, and now, in class, he was simply ignoring Ronan’s requests for poses, sitting how he liked or how other people requested. It was infuriating. But, at the very least, he was keeping his dick angled away, so, maybe he wasn’t super mad? 

 

-

 

“I think I fucked up,” Ronan announced when he walked into the bar that evening after class. He was supposed to be meeting Gansey and Noah and Gansey’s new girlfriend Blue there (along with Henry, but Henry worked there so), but he was early as everyone else's classes finished in another half hour, and so he was directing this statement specifically to Henry behind the bar. 

 

It turned out that actually it was Henry’s workmate behind the bar. He eyed Ronan up, rolled his eyes, and then called for Henry. 

 

“Light of my loins,” Henry said as he bounded out of a door to Ronan’s left, “I hear you’ve fucked up?” 

 

“I feel like that phrase is something that refers to either children or lovers,” Ronan grumbled, “and I am neither to you.” 

 

“Psh,” Henry said, “you’re as near and dear to me as if you were.” 

 

“I’d rather not be,” Ronan said, but didn’t move to shrug Henry’s arm off of his shoulder. “I think I fucked up.” 

 

“Do tell,” Henry said. 

 

“I asked the life model to model for me,” Ronan said. 

 

“Uh,” Henry said, “you definitely fucked up then, he’s already modeling for you?” 

 

“I mean,” Ronan groaned, letting Henry lead him over to the bar, “I asked if he could model for me for another paper. Outside of class. I told him I’d pay.” 

 

“And he felt like you were trying to pull him away from his duties and loyalties and turned you down and now won’t speak to you because you’re a class traitor? Get it?  _ Class _ traitor.” 

 

“Shuddup,” Ronan groaned, dropping his head down on the bar as Henry ducked under the bar to his left. “No. He said yes, but he seemed like, super mad about it. Then he just… ignored me the rest of the class.” 

 

“Huh,” Henry said, back to Ronan as he grabbed a bottle of beer for him, “did you not offer him enough money?” 

 

“He set his rates,” Ronan grunted, “so, no. I’m giving him what he asked for.” 

 

“Huh,” Henry said again, plonked the beer down in front of him, “did you insult him?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Well you know,” Henry shrugged, “you do insult a lot of people, a lot of the time, so. Maybe an insult slipped out without you noticing?” 

 

“I’d have noticed.” 

 

“Ah,” Henry nodded sagely, “that’s right. Because you’re hella crushing, right?” 

 

“No one says ‘hella’ anymore.” 

 

“Because you’re mega crushing, right?” 

 

Ronan took a swig. 

 

“Poor baby,” Henry offered. 

 

“I don’t want to socialise tonight,” Ronan grunted, half into the beer bottle, “do you think Gansey would completely flip if I bailed?” 

 

“Is this the first time you’re meeting his beautiful Blue?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Then,” Henry screwed his face up in a theatrical wince, “maybe a little bit? Unless you have a good excuse?” 

 

“Homework?” Ronan suggested, “Exhaustion? Abject misery?” 

 

“Abject misery might work,” Henry said, “but he would probably come straight home to check on you. You know how he worries.” 

 

Ronan did indeed know how he worried. 

 

“How about,” he said, “because I’m in a shit mood and didn’t trust myself not to be a shit to Blue? First impressions and all that?” 

 

“Ohhh,” Henry nodded, “clever move, Lynch. Go on then. Text him a nice mournful message and fuck off.” 

 

“Thanks, Cheng.” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently people wanted more than 4 chapters and so did my heart, so. five chapters now.

“We missed you tonight,” Gansey said, announcing his arrival back home a good handful of hours after Ronan had gotten back. “Have you eaten?” 

 

“What a lie,” Ronan called from his bedroom, “I had your leftover nachos.” 

 

“Rude,” Gansey replied, appearing around Ronan’s doorway with a smile that contradicted this statement. “How’re you feeling now?” 

 

Ronan shrugged. He was lying half upside down off of his bed with his DS, and if he got stuck on this level again he was going to throw it out the window. Except he wouldn’t because then he would never get past the level. 

 

“Still in a shit mood, then?” Gansey prompted, dropping himself down on the bed near Ronan’s legs, and grabbing his shin so that Ronan wouldn’t slide all the way off of the bed with the bounce of mattress. 

 

“When am I not?”

 

“When you’re drawing, usually,” Gansey said thoughtfully, squeezed Ronan’s shin and released him. “When you’re playing games with Noah. When we’re doing stuff together. When we’re watching movies. When you’re driving. When I let you speed while I’m in the car with you. When you’re eating my leftover nachos, when -” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan groaned. Dropped the DS on the floor, and then levered himself upright, abs complaining that he was levering himself only with them and nothing else until Gansey grabbed his shin again. “Ok, I get the point, whatever. I’m not in an as shitty mood as I was.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey said, watched as Ronan flopped over onto his stomach, and then stretched out next to him, “what’s got you so shitty today?” 

 

Ronan considered telling him exactly what he’d told Henry. Then he remembered how embarrassing that had been, so. “I’m just stressed,” he mumbled into his pillow, “about uni shit. It’s actually kinda a lot when I’m trying to do well.” 

 

Gansey snorted beside him, then reached out to rub the top of Ronan’s head, scratching at the stubble. “Dork,” he said, then, “I know I’m not exactly as well versed in art as you are, but if you need any help -” 

 

“I know,” Ronan said, “thanks, man.” 

 

“Of course,” Gansey said. He was silent for a moment, hand still scratching Ronan’s scalp languidly as if Ronan were a cat. “You haven’t drawn me for a while.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groaned, rolled out from under Gansey’s hand onto his side and kneed him in the hip. “I just told you I’ve got a lot of uni shit on! Anyway, how many more portraits of yourself do you need? Are you starting up a shrine to yourself?” 

 

“Rude,” Gansey said. 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan grinned, “did Noah and Blue get along? And Henry?” 

 

“Ah,” Gansey grinned back, “actually, yes. Very well. Henry and Blue got off a little on the wrong foot at first I think, but then they clicked over politics. And Noah - Jesus. I think they’re planning a road trip involving camping and build-a-bear, and I’m not invited.” 

 

“Amazing,” Ronan snorted, “I’m glad.” 

 

“Lynch,” Gansey said. 

 

Ronan did not like the tone Gansey said this in. It was his, ‘I’m going to ask you something in a very serious way and if the answer is what I think it is I will be hurt’. 

 

“Dicky,” Ronan replied, in a possibly childish way of defusing this Gansey tone. 

 

“You will meet with Blue, right?” Gansey asked, “You’re not… avoiding it?” 

 

“I’m not avoiding it,” Ronan sighed, “dude. I just - I 100% just didn’t want to meet her at peek shit, ok? I wanna meet your bae.” 

 

“If you call her my bae in front of her, she might knee you in the nuts,” Gansey said, apparently appeased. 

  
  


-

  
  


He wasn’t sure whether it was due to his own artistic merit, his friendship with Gansey (the university’s favourite student), or because his lecturers just wanted to encourage him to actually finish his degree, but he got a studio booked very easily. Possibly it was actually always easy and he just didn’t know this because he’d never tried before. Either way, on Monday morning he waited at his easel for Adam to come over and ask about the booking, if they were still on for the evening. He didn’t come over before class started - which he had done last week a few times to crack sarcastic jokes at Ronan - and he didn’t come over during the break. In fact, during the break, he actually put on real clothes and left the classroom entirely. If Ronan tended to think everything was about him, he would think that Adam was avoiding him. He was still ignoring Ronan’s requests, but also not sitting in a very dick facing way, so. He was mad at Ronan? But not mad enough to force him to draw his dick? God. 

 

At the end of the class, as soon as Adam had slipped behind the screen to get dressed, Ronan gathered up his papers and inks, shoving them in his bag haphazardly, and all but scurried to go wait for him to come back out. He wouldn’t put it past him to sneak out the classroom while Ronan wasn’t looking. 

 

“Oh,” Adam said when he stepped out from behind the screen. He didn’t sound very pleased. “You’ve booked a room, then?” 

 

“I thought you forgot,” Ronan said. 

 

“I thought you did,” Adam replied shortly. He was looking down from the conversation, at his shoulder bag, in which he was rummaging for who knows what. An excuse to leave, maybe. 

 

“No,” Ronan said, “you’ve just been avoiding me so I wasn’t able to talk to you about it.” 

 

Adam didn’t bother trying to deny this. 

 

“Anyway,” Ronan said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest to try and keep the discomfort inside of it rather than squeezing its way out of his mouth. “Five thirty? Until Nine. Down the hall from here. Room 6B.”

 

“Sure,” Adam said, he was hoisting his bag further up his shoulder, “I’ll see you then.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan said. 

 

Adam brushed past him, left. 

 

Fucking dumb. 

 

-

  
  


(From) dick<3

-are you still on campus? 

 

(To) dick<3

-unfortunately

 

(From) dick<3

-join us for lunch? I’m eating with Blue and her friend at the sushi joint upstairs. 

 

(To) dick<3

-will you think im avoiding this if i tell you im in a shit as fuck mood rn as well?

 

(From) dick<3

-...yes. Are you? 

 

(To) dick<3

-yes.

 

(From) dick<3

-come anyway? 

 

(To) dick<3

-God

-fine. 

-gimme five. 

 

-

 

It wasn’t difficult to find Gansey and Blue at the sushi place. For one, it was a small place, for another, Gansey had a very carrying voice, and thirdly, because Adam -  _ his _ Adam - was seated at the table with Gansey and a very short woman who looked like she was wearing cloth chainmail. 

 

His Adam. 

 

He considered ducking out the door and texting Gansey with some fake apology, but he was too late. Gansey saw him, waved at him, stood up even. God. He really wanted him to meet Blue, huh. 

 

He pointed at the food cabinets to indicate that he’d grab some sushi before coming over, and Gansey nodded and sat back down. So. He had a little bit of time to get his wits about him. Not much time. He selected sushi (he only liked chicken sushi and sesame balls), asked for extra wasabi and no soy, paid, changed his mind and bought a bottle of orange juice as well, and then made his way slowly over to the table. 

 

Gansey grinned up at him. Adam wasn’t even looking at him, instead just frowning down at his own lunch as if it had just insulted him. Blue had her eyebrows up. 

 

“Hi,” he grunted, dropping his food down next to Adam because of course that was where the only seat was, and then dropping himself down as well, shifting his chair to be as far away from Adam as possible at this tiny plastic table. 

 

“Ronan Lynch,” Blue said, as if she was trying his name out in her mouth. “You’re taller than I expected.” 

 

“Maybe Gansey was trying not to intimidate you,” Ronan grumbled, “‘cos you’re a fuck load shorter than I expected.” 

 

Gansey looked a little bit like he was going to pass out and topple over backwards. This was probably not how he was hoping this would go. 

 

“Congrats,” Blue said, “I’m short. Good observation.” 

 

“I mean,” Ronan said, cracking his chopsticks apart, “it’s just give and take. You point out I’m tall, I point out you’re short. I’m not saying it’s fucking bad.” 

 

“Do you always swear this much?” 

 

“Fucking mostly,” Ronan said, smeared wasabi over the top of his first slice of sushi. 

 

“Charming,” Blue snorted. 

 

“God,” Ronan grunted, shoved the sushi in his mouth and spoke around it, “Gansey I told you I was in a shitty mood today.” 

 

“Well,” Gansey said, “I was hoping you could maybe reign it in a little.” 

 

“I’m not put off,” Blue said, she sounded almost offended at the idea that she might be, “although I am interested to see if you’re a little less scratchy when you’re not in a shitty mood.” 

 

“I shit rainbows when I’m in a good mood,” Ronan said, swallowed the sushi. 

 

“Impressive,” Blue said, “that must make shitting a very happy occasion.” 

 

“Is that a gay pun?” Ronan asked, shoved another piece of sushi in his mouth, because apparently he’d also been hangry without noticing and he was very much enjoying eating. 

 

“Yeah,” Blue said. 

 

“Ok.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey repeated, he sounded like he’d given up on caring that Ronan was a ball of spikes with a mouthful of rice and wasabi. “I should have said before, I’m so sorry, Adam. Ronan, this is Adam, Blue’s best friend, and Adam, this is Ronan, my best friend.” 

 

“We’ve met,” Adam said shortly before Ronan could even swallow his current mouthful. “I didn’t know you two knew each other though,” he added, nodding at Gansey. “I wouldn’t have guessed it either.”

 

Somehow, despite Adam having basically ignored him and avoided talking to him as much as possible in their last interactions, and despite most people not getting how Gansey and Ronan were friends. Somehow it kind of hurt to hear Adam say that.  _ This _ was why Ronan didn’t appreciate crushes. It just gave people more scope to hurt you or some shit like that.

 

“Oh,” Gansey sounded surprised, “You have? Where did you two meet?” 

 

“I’m the model in his life drawing class,” Adam said simply. He had had a clump of ginger at the end of his chopsticks in mid air for the last few minutes, and he put it in his mouth now and spoke through it. “But we barely know each other.” 

 

Gansey had just been in the process of putting a spoonful of miso in his mouth, but at Adam’s words, he apparently inhaled rather than just putting the liquid in his mouth, and what followed was a good four minutes of Gansey attempting to cough seaweed out of his lungs while Blue patted his back. Once he had put himself back together (wiped his streaming eyes with a very colourful hanky Blue had produced from her pocket, and drunk half of Ronan’s orange juice), he cleared his throat and said; “Excuse me?” 

 

“Um,” Adam said. He had been sitting rather quietly during Gansey’s coughing fit, checking his phone in between getting up to grab napkins to wipe the miso off the table with. “I’m his class’s life drawing model?” 

 

“I see,” Gansey said. He said it very pointedly. While staring at Ronan. 

 

This stare was either about the lack of dick drawing Ronan was doing, or, Henry had cracked and told Gansey or Noah, or even Blue, about Ronan’s huge fuck off crush. Ronan did not want to know which it was while he was sitting right  next to Adam. 

 

“Oh,” Blue said, she sounded possibly as shocked as Gansey did, “wait, wait. Adam. When you say - so this is -” 

 

Adam cleared his throat, and Blue stopped talking to smirk instead, and then to turn to Ronan and say; “So you’re drawing Adam again tonight? Just you and him?” 

 

Gansey choked again. Everyone ignored him. 

 

Yup,” Ronan said, as casually as possible, which apparently meant popping the P way too loudly. “For a different paper.” 

 

“Wait,” Gansey coughed, “you’re drawing Adam for a different paper? Tonight?” 

 

Adam had apparently decided to leave this conversation up to Ronan because he was just drinking coke now, staring out the window. 

 

“Yup,” Ronan repeated, toning down the casualness.

 

“Oh,” Gansey said, “Oh! Is this for your ‘Beautiful places’ painting class? The one you forgot you needed to do portraits for?” 

 

Ronan would have prefered Gansey had not said this. 

 

“Beautiful places?” Blue repeated, amused. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan said, considered how he could sneak wasabi into Gansey’s lunch.” 

 

“So, Adam,” Blue said, “does that make you a -” 

 

“Uh,” Adam interrupted, “I actually have to run, guys. Work.” 

 

“Oh right,” Gansey said, glancing from Adam to Blue, to his watch, “yes, sorry! You said you only had a few minutes. It was good to see you again, Adam. Sorry about the - uh - sorry.” 

 

“All good, Gansey,” Adam said, cleaning his lunch remnants up into a neat pile and picking it up, “I’ll talk to you later Blue, stop wiggling your eyebrows.” To Ronan he said; “Later,” and then left, pausing only to drop his rubbish in the bin by the door. 

 

As soon as he was fully gone, Gansey turned to look at Ronan. 

 

“That’s him?” he asked. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan growled. 

 

“That’s him what?” Blue asked, sounding far too interested, “what have you been saying about him, Ronan?” 

 

“Can I -?” Gansey asked, turning to look from Ronan to Blue back to Ronan. 

 

“No,” Ronan snapped, “I’d prefer not to have this public knowledge.” 

 

“Oh,” Blue said, “I swear I’m not public,” 

 

“No,” Ronan groaned, “you’ve gotta be like, tier twelve in friendship before you get to unlock my embarrassing shit.” 

 

“Aw,” Blue said, “what tier am I now?” 

 

“God,” Ronan said, “I dunno? I just met you? I guess because Gansey likes you so much you’re automatically at least a five? And your sarcasm gets you to six.” 

 

“Neat.” 

 

-

 

“Ok,” Ronan said, a full hour into the modeling/painting. Adam had been waiting outside the room when Ronan had arrived at quarter past five, and had stripped to just his boxers as per Ronan’s request, and then they had both sat in silence while Ronan sketched a few poses, and then settled on one. Adam had barely spoken. Barely looked at him, even though Ronan’s pose had them facing each other. “Can you just. Can you just fucking spit it out?”    
  


“Spit what out?” Adam asked calmly, staring blankly at the wall to the left of Ronan’s shoulder. 

 

Ronan felt like he was going to break his paintbrush due to barely restrained frustration. “Whatever it is that I fucking did that pissed you off so God damned much,” he hissed, “because it wasn’t intentional, ok? I don’t know why you’re so shitty with me, so being shitty with me isn’t going to change my behaviour because I have no fucking clue what it is you want me to change!” 

 

He did not break his paintbrush. He placed it very carefully in his jam jar of water instead and leaned into his painting to wipe a fleck of dust off of the spot he wanted to put paint on. He could hear Adam shifting on the creaky wooden chair in front of him. 

 

“Could you have used Gansey for this portrait?” Adam asked, which seemed so entirely backwards from their conversation (if you could call it that), “Could you have used a  _ friend _ ?” 

 

“No,” Ronan grunted, then tipped his head side to side so his neck cracked viciously. “But not because he’s my friend, or because I know him,” he admitted, “he just didn’t fit the theme.” 

 

“Beautiful places,” Adam said blandly. 

 

Ronan was very glad his canvas was large enough to hide behind when he wasn’t purposefully looking around it to gaze at Adam. 

 

“Gansey’s good looking,” Adam continued, mercilessly, “Blue certainly thinks so. I think so. It’s an objective fact.” 

 

“Sure,” Ronan grunted, rinsed his brush, “he’s the American male ideal.” 

 

“So,” Adam prompted, “he would fit the theme for beautiful places, right?” 

 

“It’s supposed to be beautiful to me,” Ronan snapped, “in like a fucking - in like a fucking biblical way or some shit. That’s been my take on this project. Forbidden beautiful places. The garden of Eden-esque.” 

 

He regretted every moment of his life that lead him to opening his mouth and saying what he had just said. The chair creaked again. 

 

“Is that like a… a joke about my name being Adam?” Adam asked, “Because that won’t come through to your lecturer unless you write my name on the paper.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groaned. 

 

“I’m mad,” Adam said, “because I thought we were friends. Or we were going to be friends. Or something else like that. And I would have just… I would have just modeled for you. You paying me, as well as outright saying you couldn’t use a damn friend, was a… slap in the face. Like a purposeful rebuke.” 

 

Ronan leaned out around the canvas. Adam was frowning at the wall behind Ronan. He’d shifted out of position a little, leaning forward more over his knee. 

 

“It’s your job,” Ronan pointed out, a little frazzled, “I didn’t wanna fucking ask you to do your job for fucking no money. I’m not that much of an asshole.”    
  


Adam’s eyes took a while to drift down the wall to meet his, and he frowned the whole way. 

 

“Still,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer at all. 

 

“So,” Ronan said, deciding to go with his usual route of jumping of the side of caution. “I don’t have to pay you after all?” 

 

“Fuck that,” Adam snorted, “you said you would so you’re going to now. If not for my time, then at least for reparations.” 

 

“Reparations for your hurt feelings?” Ronan said, testing how far he was allowed to tease, “Diddums.” 

 

“Yup,” Adam said, “basically.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan said, “that sounds fair to me.” 

 

Adam shifted back into position. Ronan kept painting. 

 

“So,” Ronan said, a good ten minutes later, “you’ve told Blue about me?” 

 

“You told Gansey about me,” Adam shot back. 

 

“I told him I couldn’t draw your dick,” Ronan said, deciding that if he just put it out there it wouldn’t be as embarrassing as Adam guessing it, “and he said you were hot.” 

 

Adam snorted. “Well,” he said, “Blue told me it was creepy and gross to demand someone draw my dick, and if I was so into you, I should try to be friends with you first.” 

 

Ronan drew a straight yellow line right across Adam’s half painted stomach. He tried to keep his voice even. 

 

“Oh,” he said, “and did you take her advice?” 

 

“I mean,” Adam shrugged, “I apologised for being creepy, and I was doing my best to be friends. I had thought that I’d just been rejected in a kind of asshole way until just recently, though.” 

 

The yellow line would be easy enough to paint into the painting, so he didn’t bother trying to rectify it immediately. “I don’t want to be friends,” he said, which was something that was far more stupid than the yellow line, and did absolutely need to be rectified immediately because Adam looked a little like Ronan had just punched him in the stomach. “God,” he said, staring at Adam around the side of the canvas, “I mean. Shit. I mean I  _ do. _ I do wanna be friends with you, fuck, it’s just that I was thinking I’d like, fucking prefer to be more than fucking friends, and fuck -” 

 

“Gansey did warn us before lunch that you used the word fuck like confetti, but I thought he was being hyperbolic,” Adam said mildly, interrupting Ronan’s rambling. “He was grumpy about it, but it kinda makes sense on you.” 

 

Ronan scowled. 

 

“Take me out for a drink,” Adam said then, “like, a coffee. I need a break now anyway, my legs are stiff as shit.” 

 

“What?” Ronan frowned, “Is this an order or are you asking me on a date?” 

 

“I’m ordering you to ask me on a date,” Adam said, already getting up out of the chair and stretching. “I don’t see the point in sitting around when we ought to be moving forwards.” 

 

“Shit,” Ronan said, “I can’t decide if it’s like, sexy you’re so decisive, or if I ought to feel miffed and delicate about you moving so fast.” 

 

“You can keep your pants on for the coffee,” Adam said, pulling his own pants on, “and you don’t need to decide, I just really want a drink and a proper stretch, this has nothing to do with you.” 

 

“Shit,” Ronan said again, “you sure are good at sweet talking.” 

 

Adam grinned at him in a way which was possibly designed in a lab specifically to melt, like, comets or something, and they’d gotten the calculations a little wrong and so instead it melted hearts. Fuck. 

 

-

 

They ended up at a Starbucks, because it was close and open, and because Ronan wanted something sweet and chocolatey with biscuit in it. 

 

“So,” he said, “do I pay because I asked you out, or do you pay because you asked me to ask you out?” 

 

“We pay for ourselves,” Adam said, “because we don’t need to fall into any dumb dating roles.” 

 

“Huh,” Ronan snorted, “cool. I can write home and tell them you’re not a gold digger.” 

 

“I really don’t think we’re up to writing home about each other,” Adam shot back with a smirk. 

 

“I mean,” Ronan shrugged, “it’d just be Gansey I’d be writing home to, and he likes to hear every detail about my life, so it’s definitely not actually about you…” 

 

Adam snorted. They got their coffees. (Adam got coffee, Ronan got something that Adam laughed about.) They sat in the window of the shop, on opposite sides of the table, and kept their hands to themselves and their coffees. This was a little difficult because Ronan had spent the last few weeks of his life staring at dreaming about Adam’s hands, and now these hands were not only in physical reach, but also in mental reach, and yet. He had been the one to make the joke about not moving too fast. It hadn’t really been a joke. Even with as much as he wanted to put his hands on every inch of Adam’s skin because he’d had his eyes there and now he wanted to see if it felt as good as it looked, but. Patience was a virtue or some shit. He hated being virtuous. He kept his hands to himself. They went back to the studio, Adam undressed again, Ronan turned the heaters up, went back to painting. 

 

-

 

They took another break at eight, in which Adam did a series of improbable stretches, they both drank a lot of tap water, and Ronan washed off his palette because the colours had gotten a bit too muddy. When Adam’s hand landed on the back of his elbow, he managed to startle in such a way that the palette directed the water flow directly into Ronan’s face, which, sadly, meant that Adam removed his hand in favour of laughing his guts out. They resumed painting. 

 

-

 

“I can walk you home?” Ronan offered, a little later than nine. His canvas was drying in the life drawing room next door to the studio, and his paints and brushes were all packed up in his backpack, and Adam was all bundled up back in his clothing and standing very close to Ronan and looking increasingly touchable. 

 

“My bus stop is just around the corner,” Adam said. 

 

“I can walk you to your bus stop?” Ronan amended. 

 

Adam shrugged. 

 

“Can I?” Ronan tried. 

 

“I’d like that,” Adam said. 

 

“Asshole.” 

 

“Sure,” Adam said, grinned, then held his hand out. “Just take it, ok?” 

 

“Uh?” Ronan asked. 

 

“I know you’ve been staring at them,” Adam said, pressing the tips of his fingers against the backs of Ronan’s fingers, “so just. We can hold hands. Hold my hand. Stop making it weird. Hold my hand.” 

 

He held Adam’s hand. The world did not  _ literally _ implode. He walked Adam to the bus stop. It was actually right around the corner, barely a minute walk. When they got there, he looked across at Adam, and was perturbed to see that Adam’s face had gone from relaxed and happyish looking to worried and possibly upset within the space of the minute. 

 

“Uh,” he said, eloquent, “you good?” 

 

“Ask me out again soon?” Adam asked. 

 

“You could ask me out, you know,” Ronan said, “with all this boldness and confidence you have.” 

 

“It’s an act,” Adam said, “I’ve no idea what I’m doing ever.” 

 

“Will you be pissed if I ask you out in class tomorrow?” 

 

“Only if I’m naked when you ask,” Adam replied. 

 

“I’ll ask you out tomorrow,” Ronan said, “and if you say yes, maybe we could grab another coffee together.” 

 

“That’s my bus,” Adam said, nodding over Ronan’s shoulder. “Don’t be late tomorrow.” 


	5. Chapter 5

“This is your idea of a first date?” Adam didn’t sound unimpressed exactly, so Ronan wasn’t entirely worried. “A late night drive?”

 

Ronan shrugged, knocked his knuckles on the sleek roof of his BMW, “you’ve mentioned you like cars before,” he said, “and that you miss driving, now you’re in the city. So I thought. Why not.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam said, “well. Who’s driving?” 

 

“You can,” Ronan said, which was more selfless than Adam realised, “if you like.” 

 

Maybe Adam did realise how selfless it was, because he just shook his head. “Take me somewhere nice,” he said, “but first, let’s get coffee.” 

 

-

 

Ronan had always been very well aware that he wasn’t the most eloquent of speakers. His words and thoughts didn’t always align, and that made him tetchy. He found that the best way for him to loosen his annoyance at himself was to do the majority of his talking while behind a wheel, or a paintbrush. Therefore, driving date. Still didn’t make him eloquent, though. 

 

They didn’t speak much while Ronan drove them to a drive-thru for their coffees, just light conversation about the life drawing class, and about the project Ronan was working on, and what Adam did at university (medicine), and the weather. Then they didn’t talk for the first five minutes after they got their coffee because Adam was too taken with his coffee to, and because Ronan wanted to keep his eyes on the road and Adam’s hands around the coffee cup in equal measure, and therefore couldn’t keep his eyes on the conversation, so. 

 

“I used to drive out this way a lot,” Ronan said after a while, once Adam had resurfaced from coffee heaven, “in my first year especially. It’s real beautiful this time of year.” 

 

“Oh, yeah?” Adam said, “It is.” He wasn’t doing that romance movie thing where you agree that the landscape is pretty while staring at your date’s face (Ronan checked), he was watching out the window with a funny expression on his face at the setting sun and the mountains. “Did you come out here for something in particular?” He asked, “Or just for the view?” 

“The view,” Ronan replied, doing that romance movie thing in which he stared at Adam while he said it. “And ‘cos it reminded me of home.” 

 

“Where’s your home?” Adam asked, finally turning away from the window to look at Ronan. Ronan looked back to the road. 

 

“Henrietta,” he said after a moment, “tiny place in Virginia. Not much of a home left there, now, though.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam said, “your family left?” 

 

“My brother sold the house after my parents died,” Ronan said to the windshield, “so, yeah, no family there, no house there.” 

 

“Ah,” Adam said, voice strained, which was fair enough - dead parents probably should not be a first date topic. “I’m sorry,” Adam added. 

 

Ronan grunted, because he still hadn’t figured out a response to the sorry people gave after hearing you were orphaned, that didn’t sound fake, or pitiful, or like you didn’t care. 

 

“I hadn’t realised,” Adam continued now, “that we were at this point in our relationship already.” 

 

Ronan was an idiot and should have kept his mouth shut. He may as well have just told Adam all of his issues at once. 

 

“If I’d known,” Adam said, “I’d have started the conversation off by saying that I got myself emancipated from my parents at seventeen.” 

 

Ronan snorted, glanced from the road ahead to Adam, who was leaning against the window and watching him with a half smile on his face, “I still win, though,” he said, and then when Adam raised an eyebrow in confusion, added, “the sad parent story. I win. My parents are dead, so I win the sob prize.” 

 

Adam snorted now as well, and Ronan turned back to the road, satisfied. 

 

“Are there any other huge revelations you’d like to reveal about yourself seeing as we’re oversharing?” Adam asked, voice cheerful, “We may as well get them over with now.” 

 

Ronan kind of vaguely agreed with that, actually. Let people know who you are in the beginning so they won’t find out later and and decide you’re too much. 

 

“Uh,” he said, slowed down for a corner, “I tried to kill myself when I was eighteen and now I have therapy once a week and possibly forever?” 

 

“Ah,” Adam said, his tone revealing that possibly he had been joking about the whole sharing skeletons sort of thing. “I, uh, I did mean things like. Like being a distant relation to Donald Trump. Or, uh - not like pizza -” 

 

Ronan swore, not at Adam, but it was easier to just swear right now. 

 

“But,” Adam continued, a little louder so Ronan could hear him over his own swearing, “I’m, uh, I’m glad you told me. Like, seriously. It’s… it’s nice to know you feel like you can tell me that shit, so. Thank you. Honestly. And I’m glad you’re here still for us to be on this date, and like. Yeah.” 

 

Ronan swore a little more just to finish it off, then cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he grunted. 

 

“I have, uh, I have a whole like, attic of shit, but I don’t think I wanna tell you all of it right now,” Adam said, “I don’t think I’m quite as brave as you.” 

 

“Bullshit,” Ronan said, then attempted to clarify, “I mean. God, you don’t have to tell me shit right now, my mouth just apparently likes to spit out my secrets like some sort of double agent, or whatever. I just mean. You’re plenty fucking brave. I couldn’t model, let alone fucking naked.” 

 

“Eh,” Adam shrugged, “that’s not bravery, that’s just… lacking the fucks to give.” 

 

“I like to think I have very few fucks to give in general,” Ronan said, “but I apparently have fucks to give about that.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Adam said, “I can certainly understand why it’s daunting. So that’s all that scares you then? Well, that and drawing certain parts of anatomy?” 

 

“Rude,” Ronan said, poked haphazardly at the AC, “sometime remind me to show you the copious drawings of dicks I have done in my lifetime.” 

 

“What a great second date idea,” Adam drawled, “so, just my dick that’s tricky huh?” 

 

“Your dick is fucking great,” Ronan said firmly, “I just didn’t draw it because I didn’t want to… look, I obviously find you really attractive, right? I felt like if I drew you and your fucking dick, then I’d be. Ugh.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam said, “ok. Yeah. I get it. Sorry. For, uh, pushing.” 

 

“It’s whatever,” Ronan said, “honestly. Look out the window.” 

 

“Shit,” Adam said, “is that a beach? We’re nowhere near the ocean?” 

 

“Lake,” Ronan said, directing the car off of the road, “it’s great when it’s warm enough to swim.” 

  
  


-

 

If Ronan had thought that his schedule was busy now that he was actually going to classes,  it was nothing in comparison to Adam’s. Not only was Adam taking a couple of extra classes for fun (‘For extra credit, you dick. No one takes extra classes for fun unless they’re masochists’. ‘Sounds like you then,’ ‘Shut it, Lynch.’), doing life modeling for the university, and working at  a garage, but also doing tutoring and doing his own studying. Between university and work, there wasn’t actually very much time for him to just hang out with Ronan. Which was possibly one of the reasons Ronan loved their every single date so much - because he knew Adam was carving time out just for him. Or possibly he loved them so much because it involved Adam. Either way. 

 

They managed to squeeze in at least one date a week, and Adam and Blue started coming to the group hangs with Ronan and Gansey, Noah and Henry, so they got to see each other then too. And it was  _ good _ . 

 

-

 

“Can you draw his dick, yet?” Henry asked a few weeks in. He’d come over to the flat and currently had his feet in Ronan’s lap and his head in Noah’s lap.Gansey was in the kitchen making coffee. 

 

“We’ve not even been dating a full month yet,” Ronan grunted, not lifting his gaze from the text he was composing. “So I’m not acquainted with his dick.” 

 

Henry kicked his thigh. “But you are,” he pointed out, “you spent a whole course getting to acquaint yourself to it. Are you guys seriously starting at square one?” 

 

“Is that a problem?” Ronan growled. He wished he was texting Adam to come over, rather than just texting to ask how work was. 

 

“No,” Henry sighed, “just. I’m single right now and so I’m trying to live vicariously through you, but, I think I’ve had action more recently than you, so.” 

 

“Boo hoo for you,” Ronan said. 

 

“I think it’s actually boo hoo for you,” Henry replied, kicked his thigh again. “Is your boo coming tonight?” 

 

“Nope,” Ronan grumbled, “just Gansey’s Blue.” 

 

“Oh,” Henry said, “but I thought - Ow! Noah!” 

 

“Oh, sorry,” Noah said, having just pulled Henry’s hair sharply, “I forgot what my hands were doing.” 

 

“You’re so cruel to me,” Henry said, and Noah patted his forehead gently.

 

“There, there.” 

 

Gansey came in then, smelling strongly of coffee. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, “And who wants coffee?” 

 

“Noah’s jealous of my hair,” Henry said, “he’s trying to pull it out. I want coffee.” 

 

“Yes please,” Noah said. 

 

“Nope,” Ronan grumbled, “when’s Blue coming?” 

 

“Uh,” Gansey checked his watch, “in half an hour maybe? After she picks up Adam?” 

 

“Gansey!” Noah cried. 

 

“What?” Gansey asked, then, “Oh. Was it a surprise?” 

 

“Yes!” Noah exclaimed, tugged at Henry’s hair again. Henry yelped. “You guys!” 

 

“Oh,” Gansey said, then, “ _ Oh _ , for -” 

 

“Yes,” Noah sighed, “you idiots.” 

 

“What is going on?” Ronan grunted, “Why is Blue bringing Adam here as a surprise? What’s going on?” 

 

Henry, Noah, and Gansey exchanged looks. 

 

“Well,” Gansey said to Noah, “I knew  _ this _ bit was a surprise, but can we tell him now?” 

 

“No,” Noah groaned, “look at him. He has no idea. Let’s not spoil the rest.” 

 

“Guys,” Ronan growled, “what the hell is going on?” 

 

“If you don’t know,” Henry said, “you’re just going to have to wait.” 

 

“Is this about to be an intervention?” Ronan asked, “Because if it is, then it should be about how much coffee you guys drink. I’m fucking fine.” 

 

“You are fine,” Gansey agreed soothingly, “just relax.” 

 

“Relax,” Ronan snorted, “not happening.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Henry shrugged, “give yourself a stomach ulcer, for all we care!” 

 

“Don’t give yourself a stomach ulcer,” Noah contradicted, “but now maybe you know Adam’s coming, you could go take a shower?” 

 

“Asshole,” Ronan replied, but shoved Henry’s feet off of his lap and stood up. “Whatever.” 

 

He took a shower. 

 

-

 

By the time he was getting dressed in his room, he could hear Adam and Blue arriving, voices in the lounge, and then, as he was buttoning his jeans up, a knock on the door. 

 

“Hey,” he grunted at the door, and it opened. 

 

“Hey,” Adam grinned at him, then quickly stepped around it, inside the room, and stepped towards him. “Sorry about the white lie.” 

 

“You telling me you wouldn’t be able to see me until next week?” Ronan said, eyebrows raised, “that was too cruel to be a white lie.” 

 

Despite his words, he lifted his arms up anyway, and Adam pressed in against him, wrapping his own arms around Ronan’s waist and leaning in to press a kiss to Ronan’s cheek. 

 

“That one,” Adam agreed, “Noah thought it’d be romantic.” 

 

“Noah’s a dork,” Ronan said, nudged his nose irritatingly at Adam’s cheek so he’d turn for a proper kiss. After Adam had obliged, Ronan said; “So? What’s happening tonight?” 

 

“Dinner,” Adam said, distracted him for another long moment with another kiss, “drinks. Exactly what’s on the menu.” 

 

“The rest of the surprise,” Ronan grumbled, shifted his grip on Adam so he could get his hands under the hem of his thin t-shirt, “whatever the hell Gansey is being so shifty about.” 

 

“You really don’t know?” Adam asked, surprise loud in his voice, “I mean. Better for us that way, but -” 

 

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” Ronan asked, “What kinda boyfriend are you?” 

 

“The one who can keep a secret,” Adam said, slipped his hands into the back pockets of Ronan’s jeans, “the one who’s been sent to your room to keep you distracted for a while.” 

 

“What?” Ronan gasped, “The fuck! This is a ruse?” 

 

“Completely,” Adam agreed, biting a kiss into Ronan’s neck, “and you fell for it hook line, and sinker.” 

 

“But now I know,” Ronan contradicted, “and I’m gonna stomp out there and discover the surprise right now.” 

 

“You could do that,” Adam agreed, kissed the other side of his neck, a little harder, a little longer, “or you could just let me distract you.” 

 

-

 

By the time Gansey came and knocked on his bedroom door, Ronan was very nearly ready for another shower. 

 

“Guys?” Gansey called through the door, “Um. Dinner?” 

 

“Give us a minute!” Adam called back, his nose pressed in at Ronan’s navel. 

 

From the other room Ronan could just very faintly hear Noah complaining that the Adam distraction plan was too clever. He didn’t care. 

 

“Please,” Ronan grunted, “don’t make me cum in my pants. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” 

 

Adam snorted, but withdrew his mouth from Ronan’s happy trail, pressed one more kiss to the bare bitten skin by his hip, and then pulled his t-shirt back down and levered himself up to kiss Ronan on the lips. 

 

“Come on then,” he said, “maybe after.” 

 

Ronan reached for him as Adam moved to get up off of Ronan’s bed, and Adam let himself be caught by the hand. “You wanna?” he asked. 

 

Adam quirked his eyebrows at him, “Yeah,” he said, “if you do.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan mumbled, “uh-huh, uh-huh. I just. Yep. Uh-huh.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam snorted, “cool. Later, then?” 

 

“Yup,” Ronan agreed. Adam frowned at him. 

 

“Was I rushing you, just then?” he asked, “We didn’t do anything you didn’t want just then, did we? I know I was doing more than we had, but -” 

 

“Nope,” Ronan said, shaking his head quickly, “nope. I didn’t cum in my pants so I’m good.” 

 

“Good,” Adam said. 

 

They took a few minutes to straighten themselves out (clothes, not personally), to kiss a little more, and then Ronan opened his bedroom door and his fucking dumb nerd friends pulled little crackers, and blew party horns, and all yelled ‘Surprise’ while wearing stupid, dumb party hats. 

 

“What the fuck,” Ronan said. Henry was still blowing his horn. “What is this - what -?” 

 

“Only you,” Gansey said, striding across the floor towards them, party hats in hand, “could forget your own fucking birthday. It makes it much easier for us to plan a surprise party that way, but, God, Ro.” 

 

“The fuck,” Ronan said, “isn’t it next week?” 

 

“Baby,” Blue snorted, shaking her head, “have you looked at the calendar lately?” 

 

Possibly not. Gansey put the party hat on him, handed another to Adam. 

 

“We have pizza,” Noah said, “and burgers. And heaps of fries. And juice. And booze.” 

 

“And cake,” Henry chipped in, “with candles.” 

 

“And you’re not allowed to complain when we sing happy birthday,” Gansey told him firmly, wrapping his arm around Ronan’s shoulders and pulling him away from his bedroom, “or when we give you presents.” 

 

“Uh,” Ronan said. 

 

-

 

They sang him happy birthday while he blew out a ridiculous amount of candles on a stupidly large marbled cake. Someone - he thought it was probably Henry - had requested the cake decorator draw a penis within the marbling. It was a little impressive. They ate cake, and pizza, and burgers, and too many fries, and they all got quite tipsy, and. It was actually. Really nice. 

 

-

 

After the party, Gansey caught him before he went to bed, wrapped him in a very wine infused hug, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he said, “I just wanna let you know that you’re - you’re super cool. And I love you.” 

 

“Gay,” Ronan grumbled, hugged Gansey back, then released him, and went to go brush his teeth before bed. 

 

Adam joined him in the bathroom, borrowed his tooth brush after him (something that was gross but somehow Ronan didn’t actually mind), and then linked their hands, and they went to bed. 

 

-

 

This was the first time Adam had stayed the night, but due to the fact that Henry was asleep in Noah’s room, and Blue was asleep in Gansey’s room, it didn’t feel like it was a huge step. Especially because Ronan changed into his ducky pajamas, and Adam changed into Ronan’s t-shirt and sweats, and they curled up together in his bed, too soft and tipsy to do much other than kiss slowly until Adam tipped his head back and caught Ronan’s eye. 

 

“Blue an’ I,” he said, slow to keep his words from slurring, “have a thing we do for each other’s birthdays.” 

 

“Hm?” Ronan asked, eyes feeling like they were about to fall shut permanently. 

 

“Mhm,” Adam said, pressed a light kiss just under Ronan’s eye, “somethin’ her family does.” 

 

“Ok?” Ronan managed to crack one eye open. Adam was watching him with a soft smile on his face. 

 

“You’re supposed to hear one thing people like about you for every year you’ve lived,” Adam said, “I guess it’s usually done by a lot more people - Blue has a big family - but. I like a lot about you. I could definitely think up a good twenty-ish things.” 

 

“Pff,” Ronan snorted, cracked his other eye open because the first one had shut again. “Too much work.” 

 

“I like your mouth,” Adam said, kissed it, “I like all the dumb shit you say.” Ronan snorted again, “I like how sarcastic you are. I like how clever you are. I like how much you like me -” 

 

“That’s cheating,” Ronan protested. Adam ignored him and continued. 

 

“- I like that you take me on nice dates. I like that you give me the time I need. I like how you hold my hands. I like how you kiss me. I love you art. I love how much you love art. I love watching you paint, watching you sketch. I love how messy you get, and I love how you get me messy with it too when you hold me.  I love that you cook for me. I love that you’re kind, and that you love your friends. I like that you didn’t want to be a creep when you feel head over heels for me in life drawing -” 

 

“Hey.” 

 

“- I love knowing that you’re going to go so far,” Adam whispered, ignoring Ronan’s protest, “your art is amazing - you’re amazing - and I’m glad I know you.” 

 

Ronan would not admit right now, if Adam asked, that his eyes were maybe a little wet. So he appreciated that Adam didn’t even point it out, simply leaned in and kissed him again, cupping his hands around his face to hold him tight. 

 

He waited until after his throat felt less like it was on fire, less like his eyes were a tsunami waiting to happen, until after Adam had finished peppering kisses on his cheeks. 

 

“My parents,” he mumbled, “used to do the same thing. Sort of.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam said, soft. 

 

“I used to love it. Dec said it was why I have such a big head.” 

 

“It is pretty big,” Adam agreed, his palm hot against the back of Ronan’s scalp. 

 

“Thank you,” Ronan said, “thank you.” 

 

Adam kissed him again. 

 

“It’s gonna be tough next year,” he said against Ronan’s lips, “I’ll have to think of any more fucking things. It took me a week to think of those.” 

 

“Asshole,” Ronan said. 

 

“And the year after that,” Adam sighed, “And, God. It’s gonna be real difficult when you’re like, fifty.” 

 

“Shit,” Ronan mumbled, “you’re a sap,” he said, “kiss me again.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilegarden.tumblr.com


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